


To Demons Like Crowley

by Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Am I doing this right?, Crowley and Feelings, F/M, Genderbending, Help?, Nephilim, Rule 63, cas is a dick, light non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell/pseuds/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell
Summary: Sam summons Crowley to resurrect a very pregnant Dean after she is murdered by Metatron. Crowley has... unusual feelings about this. He's never had emotions before. What's changed? And will he do the right thing?(On indefinite hiatus. I've fallen out of this fandom recently and I just can't get back into it.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have other chapters written up already! Let me know what you think and maybe I'll post them!

To demons like Crowley, hunters like Deana Winchester were legends. To see one and live to tell the tale was rare among the hell-spawn kind, but even more impossible was the privilege to work beside one. If you could call it a privilege. Deana and her brother Sam were just as big a pain in the ass as the next hunter, but that didn’t stop him from using them to his advantage. 'But what was the advantage of a dead Winchester?', Crowley thought to himself, seated in a darkened corner of Deana’s room. 

On the bed, sprawled spread-eagle, she lay lifeless; save for the flicker of energy that occasionally sparked in her swelled stomach. Yes, Deana had finally slipped up and fallen for that pretty-boy angel Castiel. A one night stand and a whole lot of regret haunted her days as she looked on her growing form. Crowley could see that much. 

Her ankles were swollen, her breasts were definitely bigger, and the clothes she dressed in conformed to her lifestyle but had grown a could sizes in the later months as she could no longer take on her older outfits. Pregnancy had changed her so much. 

Crowley felt a deep tug in his chest as Sam tried to summon him. Something about, “You got her into this mess, so you fix it”. Thankfully, since the demon-king was already on the grounds, he wouldn’t be required to make an appearance. He just sat and studied Deana’s listless form, making note of every detail. 

Her hair formed a gold ring around her head, almost resembling a halo (which would have been appropriate considering the Nephilim child she carried). In her pregnancy months, she seemed to grow frail and vulnerable, the child eating up her life source like a ravenous wolf feasting on the body of an elk. But, those small limbs and bow legs were still strong as can be.   
The flicker of energy sparked again then fizzled out as the still living baby’s pulse wavered through its small frame. 

There was another tug at Crowley’s chest, but this time, it wasn’t him being summoned. It was a human feeling, possibly the after effects of the blood binge he had been on for the past month or so. He could’ve sworn he was clean. This pang he felt was agony, grief, and loss. Something he shouldn’t feel for a hunter. But he did.   
Slowly, the pang grew and cut through him until it consumed him and he got to his feet to make his way across the room to Deana. The Mark of Cain on her arm glowed dimly like a dying ember. Seating himself beside her on the bed, he grabbed her delicate hand and held it in his own. Another wanton thought came to his mind.

Could she ever love him?

As soon as the idea flashed through his mind, he found himself kissing the back of her hand, just below the knuckles on the smooth skin. It was soft, unexpectedly cold, but he didn’t mind at all. Stealing a glance at her face, Crowley found himself fixating his eyes on her. She was… beautiful, as hunters rarely were. 

His other hand came up to run over her belly, feeling the child kick about under his touch. He wondered how it had survived this long. Perhaps it was a possiblity that it could live outside of her on its own, but she wasn't willing to take that chance. Even in her last moments, she begged Sam to leave it be. She'd rather it die with her than barely live at all. 

The thoughts rolled through Crowley's mind. Fantasies and feelings he'd never fathomed before came into play. Could she love him? Would they have had a life together? What would have happened to her if she had been full with HIS child? Certainly not this. She wouldn't be lying dead on a ratty mattress, murdered by an angel. She wouldn't have had the mark of Cain. She would be in his home in Hell taking it easy and preparing for the birth of their child. It would be tough on her, but she would make it. 

Crowley took in the warmth under his hand and decided what he needed to do. Quietly, he got up and closed the door, locking it then coming back to her side. Gently brushing Dean's hair away from her face, he lay his forehead against hers, whispering ancient latin.  
And with that, he did something he never thought he'd find himself doing. 

He took her. 

After, he lay quietly with her head on his chest, her hips propped on two pillows, and the smell of blood lacing the air in the room; his own and hers. Her wounds had begun to bleed again. 

Moments, seconds, hours had passed it felt like before he mustered the courage to say the final words, marking her return.Dean's eyes fluttered open, the candy apple green as bright as ever.   
Crowley smiles and looks down at her. "Hello, love," he whispers into her hair.

"Crowley? ...What...What happened? Why am I back?" she seems panicked, wondering secretly why he's naked and her pants are missing.

"A ritual. It was all I could think of."

Her eyes narrow a little. "And what exactly did this ritual entail?"

After a moments of hesitation, he speaks again. "You have to carry my child."


	2. A Day In The Life

Dean stood in the kitchen of the bunker, twirling a spoon through her fingers in anticipation, using her free hand to trace the swell of her seeded belly. 

Sam was shopping for was felt like the thousandth time this week. Since the first months of her pregnancy, Dean’s cravings and hunger had subsided. But, since the binding ritual with Crowley was completed, they’d returned in full force. The refrigerator was practically empty save the condiments and food accessories. 

A hard kick from the baby pulled Dean from her daydreams of Rocky Road ice-cream and potato chips, causing her to drop the shimmering spoon. There it would lie until one of the boys got home. Everything on the floor didn’t exist to Dean anymore. She either couldn’t see it or reach it, so what was the point of acknowledging its presence? Hell, she barely wore shoes anymore unless Crowley helped her put them on. 

Flattening out her palm on the underside of her stomach where the baby’s head should be rested, stroking gently to try and soothe it. “Shh, little one. Daddy will be back soon. I promise.”

The baby continues to kick, but more gentle and loving. Dean smiles, moving to the sink to get a glass of water. While filling the thin flute, she catches a glance of the mark of Cain still burning on her arm. Since the binding ritual, it had been easier to handle. She didn’t really know why, but at least she could handle the urges to kill and it wasn’t trying to kill her any more.

Sam steps into the kitchen, grocery bags hanging from his broad frame. “So hungry you’re actually drinking water? Surprise. Surprise.” 

Dean’s eyes widen at the sight of the food and she almost drops her glass. 

Sam swallows, his pulse rising a little. “Dean, no.”  
She steps forward, crouching slightly then racing to him and wrestling the bags away from him. When Sam collects himself from the attack, he finds his big sister consuming the box of Pop Tarts he bought along with a jug of milk. She’s already been through half the food. 

The way she eats is almost… inhuman. 

He chuckles a little, putting what’s left of the food in the fridge. 

The rest of the day went as normal. Sam and Dean talked over random things, over the baby and life. Crowley came home and Dean made dinner (which she insisted on doing every night). After, all three might sit and talk some more, but more often than not, Crowley insisted that he and Dean head to bed for her sake. 

Being so close to her due date was really beginning to show. She slept a lot more and she often had Braxton-Hicks contractions along with muscle spasms.   
Both boys made sure that one of them was nearly always around just in case she went into labor. And that wasn’t even the scariest part. 

That night Dean lay with her back to Crowley’s chest and her head on his arm. He wore nothing but simply his boxers in comparison to her white maternity tank top and a pair of sleep shorts. The Demon King was deep in his thoughts when he felt Deana stir against him, raising her head a little. 

Crowley puts a hand on her back, rubbing it gently, “Are you alright, darling?”

“Crowley… What’s this?” he feels her finger tap his arm on the inside just below his elbow. 

He brings his head up to look over her shoulder, laying a light kiss on the smooth skin. There on his arm, glowing bright as a fire in the pits of hell, was the Mark of Cain.


	3. Into The Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Mark does its work.

Dean traced her fingers over her belly. She was two weeks past her due date and already beginning to feel the effects. Braxton-Hicks contractions were like the plague anymore. 24/7. That was what Castiel felt radiating off her body when he appeared next to her one the couch that night. She jumped, grabbing a pillow to defend herself. 

“Hello, Dean,” he mumbled incoherently, even though a greeting would not be needed. 

Her face turns sour and she tosses the pillow back to the end of the couch with force, standing up, “What the fuck are you doing here, Cas?”

“I came to check on you and the child. You are late. Your due date was two weeks ago.”

“Yeah? No shit.” She rolls her eyes, picking up the mug of hot cocoa she was drinking from the coffee table. 

“Thanks for that fountain of information.” 

“You should go to the hospital. There might be something wrong.”

“There isn’t. Ask Crowley.”

Cas frowns, “What does he have to do with this?”

Dean smiles a little, rubbing her hand along the underside of her stomach. “He’s the father.”

Castiel feels anger bubble up in his chest, but tries to keep himself calm for Dean and the child’s sake. “I thought I was the father, Dean. Were you cheating on me with him this whole time?”

“This whole time? Cas, we’re not together anymore. We haven’t been since you knocked me up. I didn’t want this, featherbrain. I didn’t want to be barefoot and pregnant AT ALL. But here I am. Thanks to you.”

“Dean, I assure you that seeding you was not my intention.”

“It clearly was, Cas. I’ve explained protection to you before. You knew about it. Now get out of here.”  
Castiel goes to say something else, but doesn’t, a flutter of wings heard as he exits. 

Dean rolls over next to Crowley in bed that night, snuggling against his warmth. His heart is racing faster than normal and he’s tense; enough to bother him into a restless, fitful sleep. Brushing her fingers down the center of his chest then back up, she looks up at him. He looks sick, frail almost. The Mark was certainly doing his job. 

Like herself with the Mark, the King of Hell was not strong enough to bear it. When he needed to kill, he locked himself in 7B, sitting in the center of the devil’s trap. Dean often sat with him, watching him rock back and forth like a child afraid of the dark, the Mark making him anxious. It was routine when he came down from the high that he asked Dean to leave for a few moments. In those seconds she was gone he would heave up the contents of his stomach (mostly whiskey). 

The Mark was killing him. Slowly, but surely, it was tearing him apart. 

Dean let her hand wander down to the hem of his t-shirt, carefully sliding her fingers under the thin fabric. His skin was hot and sweaty with the high. Sometimes, it wasn’t so bad. Like tonight. 

Air hisses between his teeth as she touches him, her hand a cool ecstasy against his skin. The arm he had rested around her shoulders tightens, drawing her closer. She was so cold. It’s delightful. 

Hours later, when both he and Dean were sound asleep, someone else in the room was awake.   
A sharp kick sent Dean bolting upright in bed, panting. Unfortunately, the pain doesn’t go away, the muscles along her lower stomach and thighs contracting madly.   
She lets out a strained groan. “Shit…”


	4. Coming Home

The ride home from the hospital was quiet and light among the Winchester siblings and the King of Hell. Dean rode in the back seat with her newborn daughter, who she and Crowley fondly called Aurora, cooing and talking to her in the softest voice Sam had ever heard. She was so gentle and quiet; you’d have never thought she was one of the toughest hunters to ever grace the Earth. But, her strong silence could have been the after effects of what she had went through. 

Sure, Dean was fit and healthy enough to properly deliver Aurora, but her hips were set too close together and the muscles wouldn’t contract correctly to allow the baby through, so the doctor was forced to do an emergency c-section. She was exhausted from the labor, but proud of herself for it. 

Little Aurora Winchester was born on April 22nd at 3:15 A.M. Her grandfather’s birthday. 

The doctors kept mother and baby two days to let them get some rest and for an observation period to predict how Dean would recover. But, after that, they were free to go. 

Sam was driving. Crowley was shotgun, watching the two most precious things in his life in the rearview mirror. It was almost exhilarating seeing Dean hold his child, the demonic energy pooling around them in a small cloud that was only perceptible to him. If he was willing to admit it to anyone, he might say it turned him on a little, but it’s not like he would confess it. 

At 2:00 A.M. they arrived back in the little town of Lebanon, Kansas; back to the Men of Letters bunker they called home. Sam immediately fled inside to make sure everything was right in Aurora’s nursery while Crowley helped Dean out of the car. She had the duffle bag they took to the hospital already swung over her shoulder and was attempting to make it out herself, but to no avail. The stitches from her c-section were still uncomfortable and the doctors only gave her a low dose of pain-killers to help her cope. Surprisingly, she was taking it well. 

Crowley took the duffle from her and draped his suit jacket around her shoulders to keep her and the baby warm. “How are you feeling, dove?”

“Like I was hit by a bus,” Dean responds, her voice quiet and raw still. “But I’m okay. As soon as I get some whiskey-“

“No, you don’t. You’ll be having no alcohol in this state. You’d be dead in a week. Come here.” He wraps his arm around her waist and hooks the other under her knees, pulling her small body up into his arms along with Aurora. 

She smiles, but it doesn’t last long. “Crowley… We have to get back to work on the Mark. We have to find out how to remove it.”

“Deana Winchester, you’ll not be working either. You won’t be working for a while. You need to rest after all of this.” He nudges to the door shut with his toe and heads inside. “Why don’t you take a shower and get comfortable? Sam and I will look after Aurora.”

She rolls her eyes in thought for a moment. “A shower does sound nice…”

Sam walks back in, smiling, “Then you go take one and I will spend some time with my beautiful little niece. “

While Dean was in the shower, Sam and Crowley spent their time study and marveling over Aurora. Neither of them had really been around babies or pregnant women before, so it was all a new experience. But, despite their novice to the whole ‘raising kids’ thing, she seemed like an easy baby to handle. Dean had been doing well, so why shouldn’t they?

They had her on a little blanket pallet in the center of the living room floor, curiously trying to figure out the mechanics behind all of this baby nonsense. She stared back at both of them with unequaled confusion.

“So, uh,” Sam starts, “What… What do we do now?”

Crowley shrugs, his head resting on his hand, “Hell if I know, moose.”

“Well, you are her father. Don’t you have some sort of instinct or something?”

“Shut up.” The demon sits up, crossing his legs. He had changed his clothing since they got back; from his pristine suit to a black t-shirt and a pair of purple silk boxers. Carefully, almost timidly, he scoops Aurora up from her nest of blankets and cradles her to his chest, her little head in the crook of his arm. 

The little newborn stares up at him more in wonder now than confusion, perplexed by the man before her. It’s almost as if she recognizes him in some strange and inconceivable way. 

After a few moments, he brings one of his hands up to run the backs of his fingers along her cheek. Instantly, she leans into his touch, closing her eyes and cooing softly. 

Crowley smiles and looks up at Sam. But the moose isn’t paying attention. 

His gaze is behind Crowley, almost horrified and bewildered. 

“Cas…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos or a comment if you like it so far or have any suggestions! I'd love to hear what you guys think!


	5. Uncle Sam

Cas stood over the King of Hell, his blade held high above his head. Sam sat, frozen to the spot with his mouth hanging open in silent shock. When Crowley looked up at him, joy turned to confusion and concern. 

“Moose? What’s got you tongue-tied?” he asked, Aurora beginning to squirm in his arms. 

Sam closed his mouth and swallowed. Crowley slowly turns his head to look over his shoulder. At the same time, Cas begins to thrust his blade through the air toward Crowley’s back. 

 

Just before it pierces the skin, Castiel disappears in a huge flash of light, leaving the younger Winchester and the Demon stunned. Aurora fusses and whines, beginning to cry. 

A thud from the doorway signals another person (or thing) has entered the room. Sam looks over to see his big sister collapsed in the doorway, unconscious, with an angel banishing sigil on the wall near her. Jumping to his feet, he races over to her, gathering her into his arms to check on her. 

“Dean?” No response. “Dean, wake up.” Still nothing.  
“Dean, come on. Wake up.”

He puts a hand over her mouth to check her breathing. It’s calm and easy. Then two fingers to her pulse point. Her heart beat is a little quick, but strong and healthy. 

Crowley clambers to his feet as best he can with Aurora, making his way over, and dropping to his knees beside Sam. “Is she alright? Can I help?”

“I think she’s okay,” Sam replies, “just tired. She barely slept while she was in the hospital.”

“True enough. Here. I’ll trade you.” He passes Aurora to Sam and gathers Dean into his arms, cradling her bridal style. Her head rolls against his bicep, coming to rest against his shoulder. Carefully and quietly, he lifts her from the floor and carries her back to their bedroom. Her skin and hair is still damp from her shower and Crowley can smell the strawberry shampoo she favors. The little gray shorts and white tank top she’s wearing barely cover anything. 

Quietly nudging the door open with his foot and crossing the room, he lays her down on her side of the bed and rolls the blankets up over her. It got chilly in the bunker at night, especially in the spring when the Winchesters changed from heat to A/C. Dean got cold very easily in the last months of her pregnancy, so she slept under several blankets each night. 

After watching her for a few moments, Crowley heads to take his own shower. 

Sam makes his rounds through the bunker, painting warding sigils and making sure all exits are secure, with his little niece held firmly to his chest in a modern papoose. He had bought the thing months ago, just after Dean found out she was pregnant. He knew it would be handy to both of them at some point, but he never mentioned it to her.  
She hated Cas for knocking her up. She despised the baby, but refused to have it taken from her. Many times Dean had told Sam that it had just as much right to live as either of them did. As she grew with the weight of the baby, she began to grow more fond of it; protective. When Aurora started kicking, she would let Sam feel the movement.  
From the first time he felt that little foot connect with his hand through the thick layer of skin, he was in love with the idea of Dean being pregnant. He felt like more of a doting father than Crowley rather than the proud uncle.

He never knew how exhilarating all of this could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated!


	6. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short. Please forgive me.

It's getting worse. 

The hunger. 

The... need. 

He doesn't know how much more he can take. 

Maybe if he can find something small. 

Yes. Yes, something small. Like a mouse. Or perhaps even a rat if he could get his hands on one. 

 

Crowley scratches his arm where the Mark is. He's picked and rubbed at it such much its turned to bloody map of scabs and new scars.

'Maybe I can just... rub it away. Rub it away just like chalk on a blackboard. Maybe... just maybe. It's that simple.'

Sam locked him in 7B weeks ago. Weeks without food, water, and a bed. 

Dean pleaded with him, begged him even, to set Crowley free; to let him kill. But, being the wise and careful person that he is, Sam refused. 

He knew this wouldn't end well for any of them. He knew Crowley would eventually die carrying the Mark like so many before him. 

It's only a matter of time.


	7. Chapter 7

"Please, Sam... just let him go..." Dean follows her gigantic brother down the hall, cradling her baby girl in her arms. 

"Dean..." Sam starts, stopping and turning to face her. "...You know I can't do that. I can't take a chance on him hurting you or Aurora." 

"He's dying in there... we have to do SOMETHING... I can't just let him die..." 

Sam sighs, smoothing a hand through his hair. She's been onto him about this for a week now and he's getting irritated. Why can't she just see? Why can't she understand? 

"...What do you propose we do?"

"What we've been trying to do. Remove it. We need to work harder."

Months... It's been months since they started that and she still can't let it go. They haven't found anything in all this time. Who's to say they ever will at this rate? And if they did, Crowley would be long gone beforehand. 

"Dean... I just think we have bigger problems to worry about here. The baby you're holding in your arms is a cambion, half-demon, half-human. Surely the whole heavenly host will be hunting her down. You remember how Cas was with that kid Jesse. It'll be just as bad with Crowley's spawn."

Dean looks like she's been playing punched in the gut; like she can't believe him. 

"Sam," she whispers, but shes cut off by Crowley's screaming down the hall.

This has to end. And soon.


End file.
